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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740366">call it fate, call it karma</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarcanza/pseuds/tarcanza'>tarcanza</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternative Universe- Different Teams, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Fuckbuddies, Infidelity, M/M, Not between Patrick and Jonny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:34:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarcanza/pseuds/tarcanza</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not right,” Jonny tries again, voice lowering to a whisper. Kane looks up sharply, bottle frozen on its path back down to the table. For the first time that night, he’s something other than unnervingly cocky and mildly amused. “Everything about this is right,” he says roughly, blue eyes intense, not leaving Jonny’s even as he sets the bottle back down on the table with a solid thunk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>call it fate, call it karma</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was a prompt fill from <a href="https://tarcanza.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a></p><p>Prompt: </p><p>Patrick is in Winnipeg to play Jonny and the Jets. Jonny agrees to have drinks with him so that he can break off whatever it is that they have going on. Jonny's been in a relationship for months now. So has Pat. Their trysts here and there have to stop. But then Pat does that thing to Jonny's wrist, and he just can't bring himself to turn Pat down.</p><p>Link to the <a href="https://tarcanza.tumblr.com/post/640233039031582720/so-um-i-was-the-anon-with-the-infidelity-fic-and/">original post</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jonny’s gripping the glass so tight his hands are starting to go white, the loud sounds of the bar blurring to a low buzz as his heart rate increases.  </p>
<p></p><div class="captext">
  <p>“So what’s with the wining and dining?” Kane says, and Jonny can hear the smirk in his voice without even having to look up. “Usually we go straight to the main course.” His voice dips low, a fraction softer at the edges. Suggestive. It makes Jonny shiver, the barest spark of heat flashing low in his stomach.</p>
  <p>He goes rigid in a fraction of a second, trying to retain his earlier composure. “I’m ending this,” Jonny makes himself say, proud of how steady it comes out. His eyes haven’t stopped tracing the movements of the white foam of his beer the entire time they’ve been sitting, but when Kane doesn’t answer, Jonny’s forced to look up. He doesn’t know what he expected to see. Not this, certainly.</p>
  <p>“That’s a good one, Toews,” Kane says, all wide drawl and lazy smirk. “Dunno why they call you Captain Serious.” He’s leaned back in his chair, shoulders loose and easy.</p>
  <p>Jonny stares, throat going dry for a moment. “I mean it. We’re done,” he repeats, voice not so steady this time.</p>
  <p>Kane raises his brows as he brings his bottle to his lips, taking a long swig. His lips are pink and wet afterwards. Jonny watches as he wipes them off with the back of his hand. He doesn’t mean to, but he does. Kane notices, of course, smirk growing wider.</p>
  <p>“We’re not done,” he says, the confident tone making indignation and embarrassment both burn bright inside Jonny. “We’re never done,” he says in the same tone, and it hits Jonny hard in the gut for a different reason altogether.</p>
  <p>Jonny swallows hard. “I have a girlfriend,” he says hoarsely.</p>
  <p>Patrick shrugs, giving his bottle a light swirl. “You’ve had a girlfriend for months,” he says, unbothered. Not bothering to add the <em>and we’ve fucked every time we’ve seen each other anyway.</em></p>
  <p>Jonny tightens his trembling fingers against the glass again, trying to ground himself. Trying to muster up that fiery resolve that made him march into the bar with his head held high—the fiery resolve that started flickering out and fading the second Kane walked inside and Jonny watched him slip his toque off and run a few fingers through his messy curls.  </p>
  <p>“I love her,” Jonny says, and even he can’t pretend to believe the words. Kane has the decency not to call him on the lie, just lets his lips turn up in a half-smile as he takes another swig. Slower this time, like he has all the time in the world.</p>
  <p>“It’s not right,” Jonny tries again, voice lowering to a whisper. Kane looks up sharply, bottle frozen on its path back down to the table. For the first time that night,  he’s something other than unnervingly cocky and mildly amused. “Everything about this is right,” he says roughly, blue eyes intense, not leaving Jonny’s even as he sets the bottle back down on the table with a solid thunk.</p>
  <p>“Patrick—” Jonny says unsteadily, feeling cracked right open under Patrick’s gaze. Kane. <em>Kane—</em></p>
  <p>Patrick.</p>
  <p>Patrick.</p>
  <p>Patrick.</p>
  <p>“Jonny,” Patrick says back, and it’s worse than anything else he’s said so far, worse than anything he’s done. Because his voice is so soft when he says Jonny’s name, eyes softer still. Jonny doesn’t know when that happened.</p>
  <p>But he thinks he might know why. He thinks he might know why, and—</p>
  <p>A touch. Patrick’s forefinger stroking soft and slow down the inside of Jonny’s wrist, and Jonny shudders, eyes fluttering shut because that one, simple drag down his skin grows the sparks in his stomach to a roaring flame in the space of a second. And Jonny—</p>
  <p>Jonny gives in. He thinks deep down he always knew he would. He opens his eyes and lets Patrick lead him out of the bar and into a cab. Leads him inside his house when the cab comes to a stop. Lets Patrick put him on all fours on his own bed and raises his arms so Patrick can pin his wrists to the headboard while he fucks Jonny from behind.</p>
  <p>Jonny can hear the noises he’s making, the little “<em>ah, ah, ah’s” </em>escaping his lips every time Patrick snaps his hips in, hard and tight, the smacking of them against Jonny’s ass loud and dirty and perfect and horrible.</p>
  <p>Jonny already knows he’ll be replaying the sound of it in his head. He won’t mean to—will fight against it with everything he has. But eventually, when it’s dark and he’s alone, he’ll give in. Slide down his boxers so he can take out his dick, pull himself off with languid strokes and roll his hips up while giving into the <em>slap-slap-slap. </em>Will give into the memory of Patrick’s fingers digging hard into his sides when Jonny starts to beg. Will give  in to the phantom stretch of his rim over Patrick’s fat cock, making him dip his fingers into his mouth to get them wet quick and sink the tips of them into his hole, just to have something to clench down on.</p>
  <p>Knows that when he slides inside his girlfriend, all he’ll be able to think about is how it felt when Patrick slid inside <em>him</em>—a slow, hot, drag. Taking up more and more space inside Jonny’s body until there was nothing left to take. How Jonny <em>let </em>him, steady, simmering burn of realization making the back of Jonny’s neck go hot and breaths come out fast.</p>
  <p>Knows that in his weakest moments, he’ll remember—</p>
  <p>Patrick flipping him onto his back. Pinning his wrists against his pillow, grip loose and soft. Finishing Jonny off with long, rolling thrusts, blue eyes never leaving his, serious and full of something Jonny’s too scared to name.</p>
  <p>These are the things he’ll fight the hardest to bury.</p>
  <p>Knows that he’ll fail.</p>
  <p>Jonny doesn’t look at Kane after it’s done. Rolls to the side and fixes his gaze on the wall. “This is the last time,” Jonny says, shame creeping in and threatening to choke him. It is. He believes it. He knows it.</p>
  <p>For a few moments, there’s silence.</p>
  <p>And then a warm press right at the small of his back. A finger. Just one. It slides down idly until it hits the top of the crease of Jonny’s ass.</p>
  <p>Lingers there for a second.</p>
  <p>Continues down the split of him, so deliberate it makes Jonny’s hole clench between his cheeks and his heart thud in his chest.</p>
  <p>“See you in three weeks, Jonny,” Kane murmurs.</p>
  <p>When he leaves, Jonny closes his eyes and tries to forget.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can see myself possibly doing timestamps for this in the future—we shall see! </p><p>You can find me on <a href="https://tarcanza.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> for updates and also on <a href="https://twitter.com/tarcanza">twitter</a>. Come say hi!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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